Fan/Original Fiction

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Calling all SQUAD! Members! This is the thread where we post our own fan/original fiction! Got an idea for Blade Runner II or an Evil Dead IV? Post it here with your very own story with your very own name on it! You could even post something you totally made up. If it's something really long and you have to post something new after the last story left off ect. then just edit your posts to stick it in. On your marks, get set......WRITE!

I was coming back home, Earth. It had been 5 solardays sence we left the "warzone". Team was gathering it's strenghts from the riot on planet X-3RO5, xeros as we called it. I couldn't wait to see my wife and children again. The team had to go through some tough situations on xeros. While getting rid of the riot we stumbled on something strange that had killed few rioteers with light powerarmours, even before we got there. It's impossible to get through a light powerarmour with any kind of melee weapon. Well less work for us...

...Extermination of rioteers was fairly easy considering that they had powerarmours. Later on we ran into some trouble while getting back to the extractionpoint. Allthou we were highly trained stealthsquad and it would be almost impossible to even see us we knew someone or something was following us. We set up an ambush from few miles of the extractionpoint. Motion detectors detect some movement up in the liveless trees of the dark jungle. After waiting over 20 hours we decided to head back. While getting in the dropship with our "shields" down I saw 3 dotted laseraim on Frank's back. I had enough time to push Frank over. After closing the maindoor we noticed that the shot wich was fired had gone straight through the wall to the cockpit. Fortunately the outerwall of the dropship was intact. All we wanted was to just get the hell out of there...

The Imperium of Man was the greatest civilization known in the universe. Since the emergence of the Divine Emperor, humanity had been united, and expansion soon followed. Orks, Tyranids, Eldar scum, all had fallen before the might of the Emperor. In the emerging days of the Imperium, the Emperor had formed vast armies, The Imperial Guard, but it was not enough.
Thus, the Space Marine Legion were born, the Adeptus Astartes.
Genetically engineered warriors, with a blind faith and devotion to the Emperor, each of the 20 Legions of the First Founding had been created from a super-human, a prototype, also created artificially, by the Adeptus Mechanicus.
20 Lords to aid the Emperor. 20 Super-humans, with distinguished powers, exclusive to them. The Primarchs.
20 grand Legions of super soldiers, encased in power-armour, armed with bolters to dispatch the Emperor's rightous fury.

But something went wrong.
The Primarchs were lost, scattered in the Warp during their incubation, by action of the 4 greater deamons, rulers of the Warp, lords of Chaos:

Nurgle, Lord of Desease and Decay.

Tzeench, the Changer of Ways.

Slaneesh, Master of Physical Pleasure.

and Khorne, Lord of War and Skulls.

And so the Divine Emperor had formed the 1st Great Crusade to seek them out.
He had been successfull. The Primarchs were rejoined with their lost father.
But, one was tainted. Horus, the most powerfull of Primarchs feigned loyalty to the Emperor, and became his Warlord. On Istvaan 5, while clearing the planet from alien heretics, Horus declared his true alegiance: To Chaos Undivided, to the four Lords of Chaos. Soon, fully half the Space marine Legions had joined with Horus, seduced by lies, or driven by the need to slaughter.

And now, after months of hard fighting, they were in Blessed Terra, laying siege to the Emperor's Palace.
His Blood Angels Legion was there. On the walls. On the gates, as he was. Defending against wave upon wave of World Eaters, traitor Space Marines that followed Khorne, choosing to get to grips with the Blood Angels, prefering to fight in hand-to-hand, with thier bare hands, if need be.
The Siege had lasted for weeks now, and news were not good.
More and more of his brothers fell to incoming fire, from concealed artillery. And there were increasing numbers of the traitors. 2 more Legions had declared allegiance with Horus, and were on-route to Terra. The Dark Angels Legion, one of the most loyal, was split in half, civil war raging on their world of Calliban. And when they knew that the Word Bearers and the Emperor's Children, the most devout Legions of all, turned to Chaos, he saw an undeniable fact.
They were alone.

Suddenly, a blast to his right put Lysander out of his trance. His 10-man squad had so far been spared. They were being held as reserves to hold the gates, and they were now in dire need.

Lysander ran, under orders from his Sergeant to take 4 Brother-marines, and hold a small gap in the wall. The Chaplain, Asmadi, was with them, exorting them forward, standing tall among enemy fire, shots bouncing off his power armour.
And just as that, he was gone. All that was left was a bloody mess on the floor, the Chaplains helmet rolling to a halt near them, empty of it's contents. Lysander didn't even want to know what could've done that.

The noise was overwelming.
Were they not Space Marines, they would have fled already. There were no Imperial Guard left on the Palace. Fighting Space marines, even traitorous ones, was not meant for regular humans.
They had been slaughtered in a few days.

They got to the point they had to defend, a small hole on the wall, not more than 5 meters in width. They were to hold for 10 minutes, until a squad of Imperial Fists were to releave them.
Yet they were too late. World Eaters were pouring in. He saw 10 of them, running, shouting to their dark God to help them in battle. "Blood for the Blood God!", he heard a voice behind him cry.
He turned just in time to see a bloodstained chainaxe rip Brother Palamon's head from his shoulders. his squad turned and fired at the traitor, his chest disapearing in a mass of blood, armor and bone. But the traitors were upon them. He drew his own sword as did his brothers, and he noticed that the World Eaters armor were addorned with yellow helmets upon spikes, grim trophies of a recent clash. "Imperial Fists", he thought. "No reinforcements, then..."

As he launched himself upon the enemy, he heard his vox-caster come to life. Captain Asmodeus had urgent news.
Apparently, unconfirmed rumours said that the Emperor, Sanguinius, the Blood Angel's Primarch and a full company of Marines had boarded Horus Battlebarge, and slain him. Traitors all over Terra were retreating. "Good", he thought. "Maybe some respite, at last."
But then, he heard the terrible news.
Sanguinius was dead.
The Emperor was criticaly injured.
He didn't realize this instantly, but as he was listening to the report, he kept fighting, inconsciously.
It was a terrible, bloody clash. Chaos Marines poured into the gap, with him and his 3 remaining brothers holding the line. Soon, one after another, his brothers fell. Finnaly, he saw Brother Invicttus on the ground, leg ripped off, signalling him: He was going to set off a Melta Grenade. at that range, he was sure to take most of the attackers with him. And Invicttus would not last anyway.
A glorious sacrifice for the Emperor.

A white light blinded Lysander momentarily. A searing heat passed above him, as he took cover behind a ruined Whirlwind Missile launcher. When he got out of shelter, that whole section was devastated. Noone else was alive. Except...

A mighty champion of Chaos Undivided stood before him, brother Tranio's head in his hands. He had been protected from the blast by some daemonic aura. But that aura was now depleted...
"Give up", Lysander said. "Your master is dead! Yield now, and I will kill you painlessly."
The traitor spoke, his harsh voice sounding like two boulders crushing each other. "You are a fool, Blood Angel! Chaos is eternal. The Imperium is not! Victory is ours! On the Warp, we do not age! Time has no meaning there! We can wait. I'll still be killing your kin long after you are dead!"

With that, the traitor launched himself to Lysander. He struck with his sword, sinking the blade of the daemonic weapon deep into Lysanders shoulder protection, bitting flesh. He felt his arm go numb.
In return, he gave a blow with the pummel of his sword that left a jagged scar running down the traitor's right cheek, eye socket becoming empty. The traitor made no sound, except a snarl.

"I am a soldier of the Emperor! A child of Sanguinius! A Blood Angel! I will not fail my Holy Duty!"

With a cry, sword raised firm, Lysander threw himself at the traitor...

This story was inspired by Games Workshop's great tabletop game, Warhammer 40K, of which I'm a ravening fan.

Any feedback will be greatly appreciated, since this is my first ever fanfic. If you wish it so, I can continue writting stories about the many races and factions of Warhammer. It's an amazing, gothic sci-fi universe.

i really liked to Johnathan Codom story, i think that would make a sweet short film... it could be set to chris issac's "baby did a bad, bad thing" I cooinsidently read it while that was playing in the background...

started it about a year ago, and work on it when i'm bored, so here it is-
delve into the psycy of floyd, with my incomplete work

GALAXY 9

Charles once again awoke having to rely on his own brain (something he hated) to tell him that it had taken in enough rest, and that it was time for him to return to his actual life. His glassy eyes flashed up to the independently suspended consciousness reassignment orb, which had once again been scrambled by the field of radiation so abundantly supplied by his lucid dreaming cap. “Son of a *****!” he shouted, “Damn orb, piece a’ crap!”

“Out of bed.” Was the next command uttered, followed by several distasteful remarks toward his padded sleeping dish, that tipped up and dropped him to his feet. He paced for the bathroom and leaned back into a tall upright padded chair that fell backwards into a sitting position. Ying-Yang shaped glass doors shifted into place from above and below the entrance to the alcove the chair was now positioned in. Spray nozzles protruded from trap-door like panels hidden in the tiles to cover him in a thin layer of a quick hardening liquid. He then sat for about 5 seconds, until the chair began to vibrate and the shell fell in small pieces from his freshly cleaned body. The doors rapidly slid back into place, and the chair delivered Charles back to the standing position and he made his way to the sink. He gazed into the mirror, and held his eyes wide open for a moment, as a pair of contacts were delivered to his eyes via a robotic arm, although he suffered from no eye problems. These were a take-everywhere computer screen, wirelessly connected to a computer in his 2nd lateral incisor. The only inconvenience Charlie faced in his morning routine was dressing himself, luckily, this is something that he doesn’t mind. Most people of this era dressed in flowing robes that were similar to the monks of the earliest remaining methods of recorded history. They were among the most easy, and convenient dress (something that is of great desire here). But Charlie wore clothing of a more resent, although still great in age, suite and tie, actually recovered from time capsules dating back to the 23-hundreds. (A.D. of course)

The first thing his computer told him was the date, time, and day of the week, according to an ancient dating system… it read, “JUNE 5, 4025 – SUNDAY 11:30 AM.”
Next information from that era was then scrolled, explaining what he might have done that day, “…TODAYS HISTORY LESSON… AMERICAN CHRISTIANS WOULD AWAKE EVERY SUNDAY TO GO TO A COMMUNITY GATHERING REFERED TO AS CHURCH… HERE THEY WOULD PRAY TO AND WORSHIP AN ALL-KNOWING, ALTHOUGH PHSYCALLY NON EXISTANT FIGURE, REFERED TO AS GOD, AND AS THE NAME IMPIES, THIS IDOL, CONTROLLED THE FATE OF ALL HUMANS, WHILE AT THE SAME TIME OFFERED A SET OF RULES, AND SHOULD THEY DISOBEY HIS COMMAND, THEY WOULD BE FOREVER TORTURED IN A PLACE REFERED TO AS HELL… HELL WAS LED BY GOD’S OPPOSITION, SATAN… OPOSITE TO HELL, HEAVEN WAS GOD’S DOMAIN, WHERE THE SOULS (SUPPLIER OF INDIPENDENT THOUGHT TO THE HUMAN BODY) RETIRED TO SHOULD THEY FOLLOW THE COMMANDS SET FORTH BY GOD.
…HISTORIC QUOTE… ‘GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME YOU DAMN DIRTY APES!’ – CHARLTON HESSTON”

Charles paid little attention to the message that flashed on his screen. It was of the last things he should be worried about. Its was a setting that he has not yet deleted, and he would do it later. A useless History lesson setting that told him things he most likely already knew. He approached his door, and as he did so, his security field system searched his face for his eyeballs, and scanned his retinas to ensure it was him at the door. Then he would have eight seconds to get out of his living cubical. The cubicles were often assigned according to gross income, but charley was somewhat wealthy after the death of his last living family member four years ago. He could still remember his uncle, always willing to come out, and play a game of catch, or start a conversation. The death of Charlie’s uncle hadn’t been hard on him though, as he didn’t actually die four years before then, but long before that. He had been in a very serious hover train accident and was in a coma for fourteen years. The technology to enter his mind, and have conversations was available, but his uncle was unwilling. It seemed sometimes to charley, that if his uncle wouldn’t come out of his coma for a conversation, maybe he would come out for a game of catch.
By the time all these thoughts had passed through his brain, he had made his way to the bottom floor of his seven-hundred floor cubical-building. The ability to teleport had been around for some time now, but it was dangerous, and slow compared to the light speed capsule tubes that ran through out the area of the inside of the earth just below the crust. The tubes had replaced what was called the automobile in major cities, relics of old fueling stations had been preserved, and were available for viewing in museums.
He made his way some five feet down the hall, and could ponder only one thing, “Where was everyone?” Everyone was gone, and this worried and excited him some, as he couldn’t help but to place himself in the position of people from ancient stories, like a short story he once viewed as a child. It was a historical motion picture segment from all the way back in the 1960’s. It was about a man who found himself in a town where there was evidence of human life, but no humans. He was the last man on Earth.

Charley laughed at the idea, and commanded his national time index and schedule be displayed. It reported that there was to be a landing of officials from a Human Martian
Colony that had rebelled from the NO. The NO is an organization replacing the unrealistic views of the USA, a government that became too powerful, after 109 years of successful global unity, it finally collapsed. The USA’s failure was it’s inability to comprehend the world population’s inability to be united as one. The NO started as two extremely wealthy individuals whom were smart enough to invest their riches in gold, instead of USA currency or the stock exchange. These two men came together and agreed upon a set of standards that they, as the new world dictators would follow. They both stepped up after the decline of the USA, and each purchased a hemisphere of the earth.
They would function in very similar ways, but in different ones as well. The Western side of the earth provided major crops like vegetables, fruit, and grain, while the East provided manufacturing plants for all other needs, and they both had something to offer the other. They would have very simple, nonbiased names, and they were, East Earth, and West Earth. This was in many ways like communism, and some hardcore US citizens rebelled, and demanded capitalism, but it was not possible to change now that the system had proved effective.
The rebel Americans formed an alliance, stole the Constitution, and all the amendments, took what they needed in a shuttle and set off to Mars. They colonized there for many years, but everyone knew that it would only be a manner of time before they would run out of supplies, and would have to return to Earth. The colony signed a treaty with the NO, and said they would return peacefully to organize a deal for the supplies they would need to set up permanent settlement on Mars. Everyone Was at the landing pad, awaiting the arrival of the Americans. Charley mentally punished himself for forgetting the importance of the date, and stepped into the transport module. He entered his requested location code, confirmed it with a press of the enter button, braced himself, and was whisked down into the transport tube. Less than 5 seconds later he was at the Western Earth Global Communications Center, his claimed “work.” His job was basically looking good for officials from East Earth, and he really needed to be at the landing, to great the Americans on behalf of West Earth… and he wasn’t. He gathered what materials he needed from his office, and went to the landing pad, 600 miles away.

Minutes later Charley was at the landing pad. The ship was already in sight. The American craft made a beautiful red and orange streak as it reentered the Earth’s atmosphere and suddenly blasters stretched out of the sides of the circular hull, to steady and slow the craft as it approached the ground. It was a cargo ship, which made sense as it was a trip primarily to recover supplies in order to sustain life independently.
The ship made a crash against the ground that nearly knocked the crowd from their feet. The loud hum from the engines grew silent as they deactivated, and a small door opened, soon after that a long ramp slid from the base of the door to the ground. A man came out and descended the ramp, he was very slender, Charley guessed if may be from food deprivation. He walked down the red carpet to the long table set out for the officials, a table that Charley was now seated at. They all expected more people to arrive, and had five chairs set out. Charles approached the man, and shook his hand. He said nothing, but nodded his head. Charley motioned toward the chair, and they both sat. Men and women in official Monk robes lined the table. Charley and the American were the only ones wearing suits. Someone at the table was wearing a three dimensional event recorder. He couldn’t tell who it was, or how many people had them, but his ears were sensitive to the usually unnoticeable high frequency sound produced by most units. The American spoke first, “Much of the past of my country is unknown, even to me. All we know is that there was a great war that decided our independence. Many died for the freedom of the rest. Although the exact events are unknown, the spirit is still the same, and we plan to live on in a democracy, the way it was mint to be.” The man two seats to the right of Charley said, “Mister, ah… Miste-“ “Arnold” “Mr. Arnold… we understand your position, and we are fully willing to fund your permanent settlement on Mars. But, we can’t grant you funding, without asking you, just for the record, whether you would stay here, and become citizens of the N.O.. It is mine, and I think everyone’s opinion, that the current form of government will, and has surpassed the quality of the United States of the World. Please, would you stay for a week or two, and view the new planet?”
“Actually, yes. This sounds like a good opportunity to visit my old neighborhood.”
“Well,” Charley said “I’m not sure- well… where’s your old neighborhood?” “Pittsburgh… Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.” Charley adjusted the position of his chair, and rubbed his chin. “Well, ah- I think we could have that arranged.” Norm Polaski said with a devious smile on his face. Polaski was a man of 94, and for a middle-aged man, he was more trouble than he was worth. Stories of his mishaps were infamous among NO faculty. He once was placed in charge of entire office block, and inadvertently sent the message, “Get me a beer, and fix this damn chair!” to all fifty-thousand work stations. He had apparently been having trouble with the real office block manager’s chair, which he (by the way) wasn’t supposed to be in, and really needed a beer. That in itself wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t inadvertently canceled 81 major transactions that were to take place that day, while he tried to get the coffee maker to provide him with coca-cola.
Charley Shot a glare at Polaski, and lipped “you stupid son of a *****” as they all got up from the table. They moved to the mass pop transport deck a block away from where they had met. Charley ushered everyone onto the deck, advising Mr. Arnold to stand within the circle the was marked in red, and how important it was the he do so. Charley tilted his head until his neck popped, afterward flashing a disappointed grimace as the transport screen said, “Please vocalize region number, and district location code.”
“4-9-7-1-1-2-3-6… 4568.” “Thank you citizen… Charles Baker…”
The group of 14 people were surrounded by dark gray tubes that slid out of the ground. A soft humming sound was produced by the transport generator as it broke down their genetic structure, and sent them instantly to their location. There was a bright blue light resonating from the open top end of the tube. Seconds later the light switched off, and the tubes slid back into the ground. The people were gone.
The transport module of the Pittsburgh downtown transport deck produced a soft hum, tubes slid up from the ground, and returned to their resting place. 14 people stood as they did when they disappeared moments ago. Arnold blinked his eyes and glanced around,
“Where are we?”
“Pittsburgh,” Charley said, “Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Mr. Arnold.”
“What? No we aren’t! This isn’t were I grew up, no way!”
Charley said, “I’m afraid so Mr. Arnold. The traditional buildings were ‘removed’ for these new cubical blocks. Just one floor provides clean affordable housing for 8,000.”
Mr. Arnold asked, “Are there any of the original buildings, anything that would even distinguish this place from every other?”
“Well, Most Larger Cities are something like this, although we are in are in a residential area, so most building are like this. But, if we were to go to a business district, there would be noticeable differences.”
Despite Charlie’s efforts to explain how much better it was now, Mr. Arnold just looked around. He looked up at the cube shaped buildings, that stretched so far into the sky, the top was undeterminable.
Mr. Arnold Asked, “What’s the population here?”
“Uh, hold on one sec.”
Charley looked up, and unfocused his eyes,
“Computer: Access population, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”
Seconds later Charley said, “48 Billion people.”